Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)(112)

Easing out, she glanced around the darkened bedroom. It’d been late afternoon when she’d stolen into the hotel in an effort to nail Andropov and his drug-dealing scum before they found Barry. Heavy curtains hung along one wall. Cradling her sore arm, she padded over to them and drew back the fabric.

Night had fallen and all she saw outside the glass was darkness and a hint of a trees.

But it was what she didn’t see that made her cold all over. No lights. No city. No New York.

Where the f*ck was she?





Chapter Three


Fox prepared a small tray with food and hot drinks, and added a small pot of salve. He didn’t have anything that looked like the three products she’d mentioned. However, when he looked them up on his phone, he found aspirin was related to willow bark. Willow bark he had. Though it was a cream made for sore muscles, the potency of which was designed for his kind. He thought the cream would work well enough.

The sound of her footsteps reached his sharp ears. Exasperated despite his amusement at her inability to obey even the simplest of directives, he waited for the water to finish heating, all the while tracking the whisper of her feet.

She’d come down the stairs and hesitated in the sunken living room. The estate was large, and he’d added on to it periodically over the years. The house and the property had been a gift following the success of his turning, a gift that demonstrated a sense of loyalty he hadn’t considered in nearly two hundred years. Uninterested in revisiting the past, he listened for the sounds of Jubilee coming to find him. Since the kitchen lights were the only ones on, he’d failed to make her hunt difficult.

Yet, instead of coming toward him, she continued walking away. The little vixen was walking with sure steps for the front door. He turned off the heat under the kettle and poured steaming water into the teapot. Would she open the door or retreat? Growling, he stalked out of the kitchen. She’d open it and rush out, without a thought for the fact the closest town was still several kilometers away and Santa Clara locked up at sundown.

The rasp of the tumblers warned him. She was running. Of course she was. His little one possessed a rare defiant quality. Most humans couldn’t look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. Rarer still were the humans who could tell him no. She’d not only told him no, she’d given him orders. The novelty of her behavior had been such that he’d given the pretense of obedience.

Why couldn’t she have done the same? The alarm split the quiet night with a blare of klaxons. Reaching the keypad, he shut the noise off. It could wake the dead, and obliterated the sound of his luscious prey. His conscience warred with his lust. He’d warned her what would happen if she ran. Her disregard of that warning served as a blatant invitation for him to pursue, one he had no intention of ignoring.

Arriving in the entry hall, he found Jubilee standing in the open door wearing one of his shirts. It flapped around her bare thighs, only adding to her sensuality. He’d seen her naked, and he’d seen her clothed. Nostrils flaring, he scented her arousal on the air, threading through the muddier fragrance of her anger and fear. The former he savored and wanted to play with, but the latter jabbed at the same primitive urge that pulled him to defend her in the hotel room.

Jubilee was his to protect.

Growling at the realization, Fox stopped fighting his body’s obvious desire for coupling. It wasn’t in his nature to examine the inevitable too closely; he was a pragmatist, not a philosopher. He’d decided on her in the hotel room. On some level, he’d acknowledged the need to make her his, and, had she truly been as young as he’d feared, he’d have raised her and allowed her to grow into maturity before claiming her.

Thank all the powers of the universe that age wasn’t a factor. If his vixen wanted to play, he would indulge them both and get rid of the wild need licking fire through his blood. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he began to smile. This would be fun. And how long had it been since he’d had real fun?

“Going somewhere?”

She pivoted on her bare feet. Without her heavy combat boots, she seemed far more diminutive, but the truth was her presence filled his senses. The clean scent of her, her dilated eyes, even the sweet, pink flush spreading over her skin. He approved the warm flood of color. The pallor of her skin and the stink of fear didn’t belong on her.

“Where the hell are we?” She cradled her injured arm to her chest, reminding him of her injury. Yet none of her discomfort reflected in her sharp tone.

Her ferocity pleased him, so he answered. “Upstate New York.”

The news rocked her. “No. No. No.” She shook her head. “I can’t be in Upstate New York.” Dancing and half spinning, she twisted and searched the room with a wild gaze. “I need a phone. Check that. I need to get back to the city. Now.”

“No.” He was almost sorry to have to deny her that request. But, if he let her go, Enoch would know. Enoch would go after her. Then he would have to find a way to kill the nephilim, and it would end badly for all of them.

“You can’t just kidnap me.” She charged toward him and slapped her hand on his chest.

He welcomed the sting because it meant she’d touched him, and he sizzled at the contact. She really was adorable.

“I believe I already have.” Capturing her hand, he scraped his teeth lightly against her palm. It teased and tormented his system, that one taste. Her breath hitched, and her pupils dilated farther, shredding the gray. And they were gray; he added that to the catalogue of information he’d collected so far.